


Eavesdropper

by shadowhuntersareoverrated



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Fiction, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Illness, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Pain, Sad, Short Story, Unidentified illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntersareoverrated/pseuds/shadowhuntersareoverrated
Summary: Everything happened so suddenly, and so unexpectedly, that she didn’t know what to do. She never meant to hear their conversation, but she’s happy she did. For if she hadn’t, she would probably still be with those horrible people.The most hollow and fake people you’ll ever meet.-------------This is my first ever story. I hope you like it. Isn't based on any particular fandom, but you can imagine everyone as whoever you want.





	Eavesdropper

Eavesdropper;

They had no right. 

No right whatsoever to say such things. No right to bash someone they do not know, and probably never will. No right to judge someone based on how they look.

Everything happened so suddenly, and so unexpectedly, that she didn’t know what to do. She never meant to hear their conversation, but she’s happy she did. For if she hadn’t, she would probably still be with those horrible people. 

The most hollow and fake people you’ll ever meet.

She had been waiting for her Art teacher to come and open the doors to the Art room. The backstabbers had been standing just around the corner, waiting for their music lesson to begin.

And as she was standing there quietly, listening to people laughing and talking, she couldn’t help but hear the little quartet talking smack about her best friend. Her best friend who didn’t even go to the same school. The best friend none of them actually knew. But that didn’t stop them from talking shit about her.

According to the four idiots, her best friend, let us call her Kate, was ugly. She was annoying, weird, “not a real Muslim”, a skank, an attention seeker, and a complete and utter waste of time. The fact that little group of four, the group of four she considered friends, would say such things about Kate of all people, made her furious.

It made her blood boil, and her skin freeze. Her head felt full of voices but empty of thoughts. Her legs were shaky, her breath hitching, her lips trembling, and her whole body shivering and quivering. She didn’t understand. Why would they say such hurtful things? How could they say such hurtful things?

She wanted to walk around the corner, and give those douchebags a piece of her mind. She wanted them to shake with fear whenever they looked at her, no, thought of her. But she was afraid. Not of confronting them. But afraid of what the teachers would do if they found out. So she stayed still, waiting for her Art class to begin. 

Throughout the whole day, teachers, classmates, and other students would ask her if she was okay if she was feeling well, asking if she wanted to go to the school nurse. She always replied with a short, “no thank you, I’m fine”. And they would always reply with “are you sure? You look a bit sick”. And she would just nod in return.

But in reality, she wasn't okay. She felt disgusted. She felt foolish. She felt foolish for thinking that people would understand, that people would not care, that people would not judge, that people would accept. Accept what, you may ask. The fact that Kate was different. 

The fact that Kate wasn’t like everyone else. She thought people wouldn’t care. But she thought wrong. Everyone cared. Everyone judged. Some even pitied her. Not Kate, no, never her. It was never about Kate. Nobody talked about her It was as if it was some unspoken rule that if you don’t talk about Kate and her disease, the disease doesn’t exist. But it does. And it’ll never stop existing.

But she’d rather talk about Kate and her problems, than being told not to talk about it. Or hearing her friends, or ex-friends, talk shit about her. She’d rather just stay by Kates side, where she was needed, instead of going to a place where everyone pitied, hated, despised, deceived or ignored her.

She just wishes that people would stop being so fucking sensitive about it. She just wishes people would talk about it with her, instead of avoiding it like the plague. But she knew it was just wishful thinking, and that her wishes would never come true.

Because who has the balls to go up to someone and talk to them about their dying younger sister. Not many people, that’s who.

And isn't that a shame?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I really hope you liked the story. It's my first one, and hopefully not my last. If you do however have any criticism, feel free to express yourself in the comments. English is not my native language, so please inform me of any spelling/grammar errors. 
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
